The Last Kiss on the Stairwell
It was the summer of the heatwave, the kind that made the asphalt shimmer and the air thick as wool. I was dating a man named Elias, whose father, a...
It was the summer of the heatwave, the kind that made the asphalt shimmer and the air thick as wool. I was dating a man named Elias, whose father, a...
My second apartment was on the third floor of a converted Victorian house on Marigold Street. The building had a wraparound porch, and the landlady, Mrs. Kowalski, kept potted ferns...
In the sleepy town of Ashwick, nestled between rolling hills and a dense cedar forest, sixteen-year-old Mara was walking her neighbor’s Jack Russell, a scrappy little fellow named Pip. The...
The summer of 1985 in our duplex on Sable Terrace was a haze of sun-bleached afternoons and chalk-dusted sidewalks. We were five families crammed into three floors, a labyrinth of...
My earliest ghostly memory isn’t from the old farmhouse where I grew up, but from a cramped bungalow in the outskirts of Saskatoon, where my mother, my sister, and I...
In April of 2003, I was twelve, navigating the labyrinth of seventh grade and the city bus system that spat me out an hour from home. My cell phone, a...
The old library on Hemlock Lane had a basement that no one spoke about. I’d been working there for three months, digitizing brittle newspapers and municipal records, when I first...
My name is Ethan, and I’ve been a chronic sleepwalker of the mind for as long as I can remember. The episodes usually follow a familiar script: I’m yanked from...
The house on Wrenfield Lane had always hummed with the quiet rhythm of domestic life. My wife, Clara, and I had moved there with our two children, young Oliver and...
In the autumn of 2019, my aunt Clara lived in a narrow brick house on the edge of a town that had once been a mill settlement. The house was...
I have always trusted maps. The neat lines, the careful symbols, the promise of order imposed upon chaos. That trust is why I took the job cataloging the estate of...
In the autumn of 1987, when I was nine, my family packed our lives into a U-Haul and moved from the cramped duplex in Bakersfield to a sprawling farmhouse on...
I grew up in a stretch of Manitoba prairie where the nearest neighbor was a half-mile down a gravel road, and the only landmark was a derelict grain elevator that...
When we first laid eyes on Hollow Creek Manor, it was love at first sight. Nestled among ancient oaks and weeping willows, the dilapidated Victorian mansion exuded an eerie charm...
The first time I noticed the carpet, I was seven, sitting cross-legged on the landing of our second-floor apartment. The building was old, converted from a factory, and the stairwell...
June 3rd, 2023, was a strange day for me. I was walking to the antique shop where I worked, and as I crossed the intersection of Birch and Willow, a...
It was the summer I house-sat for my cousin Marisol, who lived in the old mill town of Ashford. The house was a renovated textile factory, all exposed brick and...
My friend Clara had a problem with a shadowy figure that would sometimes appear outside her bedroom window. It scared her so much that she hung a small, painted charm...
It was a sweltering August afternoon when I first noticed the door. My friend Mira had inherited her grandmother’s old farmhouse, a sprawling Victorian relic that creaked and sighed with...
When I moved into the attic apartment on Calloway Street, I justified the peeling paint and the faulty heater with the promise of a bargain. The landlord, a man with...
The old house creaked and groaned around Elara like a dying beast. Dust motes danced in the slivers of moonlight piercing the grimy windows of the attic room she’d claimed...
My mother had recently told me of something strange that happened to her when she was a teenager. She was walking home alone in the summer and it was almost...
The old farmhouse sat at the end of a gravel road, its white paint peeling like sun-scorched skin. I was a botanist, newly arrived in the town of Harrow’s Reach,...
I never believed in doppelgangers until the summer I turned sixteen, when they started appearing in the most ordinary places. The first time, I was in my apartment, alone, sorting...
Listening to the woods...
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